


the stress on my back's been severing my spine

by defectivedeviant



Category: Sander Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Asexual Logan, Depression, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Logan centric, Lowercase, M/M, Panic Attacks, Seizures, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defectivedeviant/pseuds/defectivedeviant
Summary: “ the thought of feelings made him uncomfortable, before. happiness and sadness and love; it made him vulnerable.it was better to close everything off; and that's how he became a robot. he kept everything at an arms length. attachment was useless, like himself, and it would stay that way.until the floating started. ”





	the stress on my back's been severing my spine

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is very much based off some true events. all errors are my own. also, this entire fic is a trigger warning. the tags seem a bit much but i want to cover everything. read at your own discretion. otherwise, enjoy.

put up a facade  
and you saw right through it.  
told me I was worthless  
but i already knew it.  
I don't care how i die  
as long as I do it.

**– atlas; facade**

* * *

 

**i – hello mr mirror man**

there's someone in his mirror.

it's a person with a sunken face and droopy eyes. he notices that the man in the mirror has the darkest brown eyes he's ever seen– that they're almost black, burning straight through him. there are no whites in his eyes. they are a dark mess of tangled wires, mechanical and dead.

he's curious now, and he wants to laugh at the man. he does. the wires bore back; a mouth twitches strangely. the sound of his laughter echoes, and for some reason, it irks him. he wants to tear his face away; but now he's stuck.

trapped with the wiry mirror man.

soon he feels the hot burning wetness, the salty taste scorching his mouth. the stranger licks his lips to taste his tears, and he finally understands.

they close their eyes.

 

**ii – espresso**

every light is shut off in the house. he doesn't know why he turns them off, he can't remember.

what he does know is that he cannot lie down. instead, he fixates himself on the ground. he tires to not move at all.

but he sways. his body feels like jello. his eyes feel heavy.

he closes them tightly; opens them. he will not succumb to sleep. he repeats the mantra over and over and over and over

 

**iii – please reconnect the router**

when he finally collapses on the floor, he's floating.

everything around him is a black hole sucking him in until he dies. his mind disconnects from every part that makes him function. he's a million light years away now.

he can't do anything when he floats. all the knowledge he has acquired throughout his entire life vanishes, and he's left with the empty shell that is his brain. minutes, hours, days, and years fly by in his personal hell of floating.

he ~~hopes~~ _prays_ for the end.

 

**iv – memory #1**

logan.

his name is logan.

 

**v – dog days**

everything is clicked back into place. he suddenly is a completed jigsaw puzzle. he can go to the bookstore; read at the library. he eats with his friends. he becomes stable again. the floating has passed.

for now.

"logan," a faint childish whisper, "let's adopt a puppy."

in his state of utter confusion, he contemplates on saying yes. but he knows that is illogical.

"no." he says, curt. "there are numerous reasons why that would be a bad idea."

patton pouts. "a cat?"

"you're allergic, remember?"

"well you're no fun!"

logan let's out a genuine laugh.

 

**vi – there and gone again**

he disconnects again, but virgil somehow– saves him.

he's at roman's play. there are so many people screaming around him; he can't breathe. his throat is closing by the second, and his thighs feel raw. he doesn't know he's floating until he already forgets everything piece by piece. he forgets where he is. what is he doing here again?

there's a young boy with shaggy hair crouched down in front of him on the floor. when did he get there? the boy asks him a question, but it comes out garbled and foreign to his ears. he notices the thick eyeshadow.

it has virgil's face, but something isn't right. the stranger goes to touch him, but he flinches away. everything is wrong. wrong wrong wrong–

the stranger with his friend's face helps him stand, but doesn't touch him. he tells logan to match his breathing, and he does. he's always been good at following directions. logan stares at the stranger until he fits the face back into his mind. virgil looks completely and utterly terrified.

logan would be scared too if he wasn't already.

 

**vii – memory #2**

his eyes glaze over and he collapses slowly on the sofa. he gives in; let's everything swallow him whole. he's about to fade into nothing when a fuzzy figure appears. logan can't tell who it is, or what they want. he doesn't even care anymore.

they climb next to him gently and place his head on their lap. he lets out an embarrassing whimper when they run their fingers through his hair.

"shh," they whisper affectionately, carefully taking off his glasses, "rest, logan."

he complies, curling into the touch of the soft handed stranger.

 

**viii – diy therapy**

virgil tells him he should see a therapist.

"thanks for the offer, but I'm perfectly stable at the moment."

"at the moment," virgil echoes back, unconvinced.

logan grits his teeth.

"logan, I get it, really-"

"you don't know anything," he snaps.

"then explain it to me."

he pauses; opens his mouth and closes it again. he picks at his fingernails and tugs at his greasy strands of hair.

"did you know hell is below freezing?" he asks.

 

**ix – distant thoughts, current problems**

logan's brain feels clogged up with death. the prodding thought penetrates his skull for weeks, and his headaches turn into migraines. even with his glasses on, everything is fuzzy and out of focus, and the pressure on his head makes it harder and harder to breathe. he's no catholic, but he feels like something, god or otherwise, enjoys watching him suffer.

it's been almost a month now, and counting. his migraines get worse before they better.

 

**x – memory #3**

he slices up his thighs before he goes to his new highschool. he doesn't know what compels him to, he has never wanted to mutilate himself before, but it makes his brain empty. it feels like nothing, and the pain is welcomed. it will soon become a habit, and logan can't seem to care either way.

 

**xi – light speed comet**

time is usually moving in slow motion for him. today he's at hyper speed.

first, he gets out of bed without any problems and he cleans his entire room. then he cleans the whole kitchen, inside and out. then everything else. he reorganizes his desk; papers and his pens, even though he knows that he'll be upset at himself the next day. he disinfects the kitchen counters and scrubs the floors until his hands are raw and bleeding. when patton comes home, he laughs about the strong lemon smell, and then finds logan passed out on the cold tile floor.

turns out he had inhaled too many chemical fumes and his hands were burned from the lemon floor bleach he used. they took him to the hospital and he had to have his hands bandaged until they healed completely.

logan wouldn't reveal he purposely meant to burn his hands, or that he bought more bleach to do it again.

 

**xii – bittersweet**

the thought of feelings made him uncomfortable, before. happiness and sadness and love; it made him vulnerable.

it was better to close everything off; and that's how he became a robot. he kept everything at an arms length. attachment was useless, like himself, and it would stay that way.

until the floating started.

suddenly all the repression was crashing into him at full force. his dreams were full of the soft handed stranger, cradling him. suddenly he wanted someone there; he didn't care who it was.

he slowly pries himself out of his room for the first time in three days. he doesn't need to look in the mirror to know how disgusting he looks. he passes the bathroom and head's straight into the living room.

roman is sitting on the sofa watching a soap opera when he comes in. he finally notices him walk in. "are you alright logan? I haven't seen you for- _hey_!" roman yells when he turns off the tv.

logan throws the remote in the floor, crawls into roman's lap, and kisses him. he tastes like cherry chapstick and sugary sweet coffee. roman doesn't pull away until their lips are red and bruised. he looks extremely confused and slightly aroused.

"logan, what are you doing?"

"I need a distraction," he deadpans. "will you be my distraction?"

"there are other things-"

"is that a no?"

roman pulls him back in.

 

**xiii – dark eyes**

logan doesn't know what to do. everything is going to hell. he's going to hell.

he avoids roman for days. he doesn't know what's wrong with him, but he can't break it to roman that everything that happened made him want to throw up, that he didn't even want to kiss him, and that every other second was pure torture. his entire body felt disgusting. how could he say that?

it felt wrong. everything is wrong. _wronnnngg **gggg**_.

the pain he feels when he hits the ground is nonexistent. he's shaking for a second and everything is dark, and he knows he's not floating. everything hurts, and he blackouts.

 

**xiv – acceptance**

the second he opens his eyes, the life is being squeezed out of him. everything is blurry and out of focus, and he tries to bring it all back together. he recognizes them all one by one: patton, currently cutting off his air, virgil, who is uncharacteristically happy, and roman, who looks terrified and relieved. he realizes he's in a hospital room, and patton is crying on his shoulder.

"what happened?" his throat feels raw.

"you had a seizure," virgil supplies. "doctor tells us it was caused by stress and sleep deprivation."

logan doesn't speak. god, he's pathetic. his body feels limp and his thighs feel itchy. _he doesn't want to exist._

patton covers his mouth. he didn't realize that he said that out loud. everything goes deathly silent, except for the whirring of his doubt. he should've kept his mouth shut. what a fucking waste of space-

"logan."

virgil's make up is running. he walks up to the bed and buries his face in logan's shoulder.

"i love you. please don't leave," he sniffles, " _please_."

patton tries to wipe away his tears, to no avail. he climbs into logan's hospital bed and clutches his hand in his own two.

they're soft.

"i love you too, lo. you're not allowed to go away, not ever."

roman comes up beside them carefully and kisses his head, mumbling into logan's hair.

"i know how you felt, before," he murmurs, "it's alright, i still will love you, no matter what."

his face is wet. fat tears roll down his cheeks, but he doesn't care. his cries are ugly and loud; everything flows out of him.

logan can finally _breathe_.

 

**xv – epilogue**

he didn't expect it to be easy.

virgil sets him up with a weekly therapist, roman helps him take his medication in the morning, and patton makes sure he's eating rightare  
are of him. then he remembers: virgil suffers severe anxiety. roman has group therapy for his insecurities. patton kicks his depression to maintain happiness. guilt is not his biggest feeling anymore.

he knows that their love won't cure him. it somehow feels like it might, but he knows that isn't the case. he'll just have to keep breathing. he might still float, but this time he has them to help him.

when he glances at himself in the mirror, he understands now.

he smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic took me many tries to get right. i got to a point where i almost had a relapse whilst writing it, but i can say it was 100% worth it in the end
> 
> \- j


End file.
